


I Surrender My Soul

by OhLovelyRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Extreme BDSM, F/M, Masochism, Original Character(s), Sadism, Sadomasochism, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLovelyRose/pseuds/OhLovelyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ainsley was ready to embrace death at the tender age of sixteen, when the Winchesters and their little leather book fix the only problem she's ever had in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**OC is Ainsley, 16 in beginning, and 26 later on. There will be some Crowley x OC, But that will be later on. Rated T for now, but will soon be rated M for extreme language and sex. (Kinky stuff. It's Crowley, what do you expect? Pfft.) Anyways, I don't own Supernatural, blah blah blah, first few chapters (while Ainsley is still a teen) is before Crowley is King of Hell. Reviews are always appreciated!** _

_**Trigger warning for attempted suicide and death mention.** _

_**Links for what I think Ainsley looks like when she is[16](http://s1.favim.com/mini/150715/colourful-girl-green-eyes-merida-Favim.com-2961731.jpg) and [26](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=9064938)** _

* * *

Ainsley sat on the bed in her motel room, looking at the pistol she held in her hand.

"How has it come to this?"

She whispered to herself, her mind moving at a mile a minute.

She was 16, and alone in a hotel room she had payed for with money she had pick pocketed from various people, and a shoddy fake I.D. she had bought off some guy in an alleyway. She was alone, and had no one to turn to, so she chose the only thing she knew. Death.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the barrel of the gun against her temple.

And there a knock at the door. Startled, she pulled the gun away from her head, and hid it behind herself; before realizing they weren't just going to walk in. She took a deep breath, and walked to the door. Standing on her tiptoes, she attempted to look out of the peep hole, but it was sadly maybe a couple of centimeters too high. Still holding the gun in her hand, she opened the door slowly, the barrel pressed against her side of the wood, hidden out of sight.

"You gotta help me man." Said the man in front of her. He was the one who sold her the I.D. "Cops are on my trail and if you don't, your name is the first I'll give them!" He seemed to be scared, and his eyes were moving almost crazily. She repressed a sigh, thinking to herself "Well what the hell? It's not like it would matter anyways." But let him in, opening the door, and silently clicking the safety on the pistol, shoving it in the back of her pants, and letting her baggy shirt cover the lump.

After he came in, she closed the door, and then turned around, lifting her head; but when she finally placed her eyes on his face, she let out a choked off gasp of terror and surprise. The man was no longer just some creepy homie with a bad smell, but a creepy homie with a bad smell, and teeth as long as her finger, and as sharp as who knows what. She pressed herself against the door, one hand scrambling for the doorknob, but the other one hidden behind her back, wrapping around the grip of the pistol still hidden underneath her shirt.

The man stalked towards her, and she clicked the safety. His eyes were hungry and predatory, and her hand lifted. His eyes went to the pistol, and his face seemed to register mild surprise. Not fear. Not shock. Just surprise. Before she could give herself more time to think, she shot. Not at his chest, or head, or foot even. She aimed right for his groin. She heard him gasp, and didn't wait to see if he fell; she was out of there, and she didn't have time to play doctor. She threw open the door, and sprinted away, her feet taking her as fast as they could. She was in the street, and running across, when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder. The hand forced her to turn, and she was now facing the man she had shot, who seemed to not have any lasting wounds.

She let out a scream, and she heard the screeching of tires. Turning her head, all she could see were headlights, and suddenly the mans hand was torn away from her, as the car rammed into him. Jumping back, she fell flat on her rear, watching as two men jumped out of the sleek black car, and grabbed him. They seemed to inject him with something, then tied him up, putting a bag over his head, and dragging him to the trunk of the car. Popping it open, the one with shorter hair tossed him in, while the taller, longer haired one walked over to her.

Squeaking, she crawled over to the pistol she had dropped, and pointed it at him, still sitting on the ground. "D-Don't come any closer! I'll shoot, I swear!" She stammered, the gun in her hand shaking as she watched him lift his hands and stop.

"Okay. I've stopped. I just want to talk." His voice was soft, and he seemed to only be in his mid twenties.

"Talk?! You just bloody ran that "guy" over, and now he's in the trunk of your car! If you want just want to talk, I'm the freaking Queen of England!" She said, standing up, and almost laughing at their height difference. She was about five feet even, and this man was easily over a foot taller than her. He could overpower her, even with the gun in her hand, and she knew he knew it too.

"Look, I can explain everything to you if you'd just put the gun down." He said, slowly walking towards her.

"I'll put the gun down when you tell me what the heck that guy is, and why he tried to attack me!" She stated, her head turning to look at the entire situation. The motel was about 100 meters away, and it was the only building for miles. She was royally screwed, and she knew it. She could always just dramatically turn the gun on herself, but she really didn't want to do that. The man attacking her, made her realise she wasn't ready to die. Not yet, at least.

"That guy was a vampire, and he probably wanted to suck you dry." He stated simply, looking at her. Meanwhile, his friend walked up beside him, and looked at the gun in her hands.

"Jesus Sammy, the girl's barely to your elbow. You can't just knock it out of her hands?" He said. His voice was a bit rougher than his friends, and she didn't like the way he talked about her. She aimed the gun down, and shot at his feet, purposefully missing by a few inches, and watching pavement fly. "I'm right here, numbnuts." She said, pulling the gun upwards, and watching as they both jumped back.

"Okay, okay. I see you. Please put the gun down. We just saved your ass, maybe let us talk? I swear upon my favorite beer we won't hurt you." He said, his hands now raised too. You thought about it for a moment, before sighing and clicking the safety yet again, and putting the gun back into the back of your jeans. You walked towards them, then past them, sliding into the back seat of their car, and crossing your arms, waiting for their reaction. It took five minutes of them standing outside and bickering, before the shorter one slid in the drivers seat, and "Sammy" slid into the passengers.

"So. A vampire huh?" She said this softly, looking at her hands, which were clasped together tightly in her lap. Her mind seemed to draw a blank as what to say next.

"What's your name, kid?" The one in the drivers seat asked, his head turning to watch her from the corner of his eye.

"You first." She said, in a mildly aggressive tone, her eyes slitting as she looked at him.

"I'm Dean, and this is Sam." He said, but he stopped there, obviously waiting for her to respond.

"My name is Ainsley." She finally said, sighing as she decided not to lie. She didn't know why, but she felt as if she should trust these men. They haven't tried to hurt her, they took care of that..."vampire", and they're talking to her.

"Ainsley, how old are you?" Sam asked. She liked him better. He was nice from the start.

"..."

She stayed silent, her head down, and her thumbs fidgeting with each other. She heard Dean sigh, and start the car. She didn't ask where they were going, and didn't really care. She didn't know if they were going to kill her, or hurt her, or anything else, but really, she was just tired. She was tired emotionally, mentally, and physically. Her head dropped to lean against the window, and the rumbling of the car turning onto the freeway rocked her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ainsley woke up fully, she was in a cement walled room, on a twin sized bed with a single pillow, and a thin, brown blanket. She could vaguely remember the shorter man.. Dean, she thinks, picking her up from the back of the car, and taking her inside. She couldn't remember anything after that, for she had passed back out in his arms.

Looking around, her eyes widening as she saw the many guns and weapons attached to the walls of the obvious bedroom, and quickly looked away, for she childishly felt as if they would go off if she stared for too long. Patting herself quickly, she noticed her own pistol was gone; and she quickly stood up, furious and irritated. Turning in a circle, she sighed and realized that one of them obviously still had it. Walking over to the desk across from the bed, she sat in the chair pushed up against it, and placed her head in her hands. Taking a shaky breath, she stayed in that position for a few moments, trying to figure out her situation. She couldn't keep her thoughts straight, so she gave up and sat back up, her eyes landing on a photo leaning up against a lamp. She inspected the picture, and tilted her head curiously. It was a little boy, smiling with a stunning blonde haired woman. They were obviously mother and son, and she couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy. That boy had something she had never experienced, and she knew it was bad to resent someone she'd never met.

Sighing, she stood back up, and felt the pocket of her jeans vibrate. Knowing the certain pattern, it was her phone telling her it was at about 15% battery life. Sliding the thin device out of her pants, she pressed the home button, and looked at the time.

"That's freaking impossible." She stated bluntly, her eyes focusing on the date. It was exactly 1:30 pm, and two days after the incident with mister sharp and pointy. She kept looking at the clock on her phone, until the screen fell asleep. She looked around incredulously, before shutting the phone off completely. She could obviously have called the police, but what would happen then? She's hiding from them, and she wasn't planning on changing that.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened out her clothing, which consisted of a black v-neck t-shirt, bootcut blue jeans with a few tears in the thighs, and mid-calf high leather combat boots. She took the hair tie she always kept on her wrist, and pulled her almost waist-length auburn hair into a high ponytail, using her black phone screen as a mirror, she did her best to finger brush her bangs out, trying to at least look decent. "What the hell am I doing?" She thought to herself. Those men out there didn't mean anything to her. Why was she trying to look presentable?

She sighed and finished pulling out bits and pieces of hair, her tresses now pulled up into a ponytail, and her bangs, which were cut straight across, were now hanging over her brows. She left a few strands of hair down to frame her heart shaped face.

Standing up, she slowly walked towards the door. placing her hand on the handle, and twisting it, fully expecting it to be locked. To her amazement, it opened when she pulled, and she was set free into a... hallway.

"Well what bloody else would there be? A black hole?" She whispered to herself snarkily, walking out, and stepping lightly, trying to be as quiet as possible. A few wrong turns later, and a few locked doors, she made her way to a main room, it looked like. She was about to walk into said room, when she saw Sam walk out of another adjoining room, with beer and laptop in hand. She quickly hid around the corner, and tried to slow her pounding heart. It didn't help that maybe half a second later Sams phone started to ring, and he answered it with a "What's up, Dean?" She turned her head, not being able to see into the room, but being able to hear very clearly.

"No, I checked up on her about a half an hour ago. She's still out like a rock. What the hell could have happened to her? We know she must be human, we tried holy water, silver, a drop of borax, nothing. Face it Dean, she's human." Sam stated all of these things like they were completely normal. What the hell was he talking about?! She was scared, and she just wanted to leave. Hearing him snap his phone shut, signaling the end of his call, she took a deep breath, and was about to turn the corner and confront him, but that was before he outed her.

"Come on out. I saw you hide. I'm not going to hurt you."

His words were calm and cool, and kind of comforting. She bit her lower lip, trying to decide what to do, before sighing and walking out of her hiding spot, her head down, and her hands clasped in front of her. She must have looked meek and demure, trying to seem as weak and small as possible.

"You were out for awhile, huh? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" His questions were kind and soft, he was speaking to her as if she were a wounded animal, and it mildly ticked her off, but it also meant her plan was working.

"I'd like something to eat, but I'm not so sure I'd trust some strange man I've barely met making it for me." She stated these words in a small, timid voice, and added a small, girlish giggle to the end for good measure.

He nodded at her, and stood up, waving her over. "I completely understand. Come with me and I'll show you the kitchen." He turned his back to her, and walked back to the room he had come from in the beginning, and she followed him, her eyes searching everywhere for where they might've hidden her gun. Making it to the kitchen, she tried to smile at him, but it was weak, and this time not purposely. She made quick work of her sandwich, and he left her to do so. She ate it in the kitchen, for she had never liked eating in front of people. When she was finished, she grabbed a bottle of water, and walked out to where Sam was. He was sitting down at a long table, and typing things into a search bar. She was too far away too see what he was typing exactly, but whatever he was doing, he was focused.

Not wanting to disturb him, she took a seat at a freestanding, padded chair, Drawing her thighs up against her chest, she layed her cheek upon her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs and breathing deeply.

"...Where's Dean?"

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, a door up a flight of stairs opened, and the man appeared from it. He was holding a black backpack that looked... very familiar, and a grocery bag.

Lifting her head, she watched him walk in. His eyes locked with hers, and she resisted the urge to look away. She was going to prove that she was not going to be scared. She watched him walk down the steps, and place the grocery bag down by Sam, before he dragged a chair over to her. Placing it in front of her backwards, he straddled it, and placed the black backpack down in front of her. It was hers, and she had left it in the motel, due to the fact that she had just shot someone and really didn't have time to think about grabbing it.

"So. According to this I.D. we have here, you are Amber Cameron, aged 23. Now what about that seems off? Maybe it's the fact that you told us your name is Ainsley, and if you're 23, I'm Harry Potter." He said these words while never breaking eye contact with her, and she struggled with the urge to just jump up and run.

"It's a fake I.D., numbnuts." She whispered, raising her brows and tightening the grip her arms had around her legs, her gaze never wavering from his candied apple green irises. She heard Sam let out a small bark of laughter, before attempting to cover it with a cough. Dean leaned back, and threw his hands in the air, letting out a soft chuckle of his own.

"Okay, Ainsley. You wanna tell us the truth then? How old ARE you? And where the hell are your parents? We'll call them and take you home." Sam said these words, standing up and walking over to her, crouching beside the chair she was sitting in, and placing a hand on her shoulder.

The second she heard "Family", her eyes darkened, and her face went to press against her knees, a deep sigh racking her body, and her shoulder shrugging, shaking his hand off.

"I'm sixteen, and my family has been a series of abusive foster homes since I was popped out. Any more questions, Nancy Grace?" Her last sentence was almost severely sarcastic, and she lifted her head, a dark smirk upon her lips.


	3. Chapter 3

She wasn't quite sure how she had managed to convince the brothers to allow her on their hunt. It went a little like this, she thinks...

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXx

"Come, on Dean! You can't just tell me all of that, then not take me on a hunt. Just something small? A haunting! Please! Sam?" She looked at the taller man, and used her best puppy dog face, her lower lip pushing out into a childish pout. Her eyes were filling up with (hopefully not obviously fake) tears, and she could sense their walls weakening.

"You know what, fine. You can come on one, and I repeat, ONE hunt. You hear me?" Deans tone was harsh, but she could tell that he was just being protective. She let out a delighted giggle, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly, and felt a small twinge of guilt. This wasn't just her wanting to go on a real hunt. This was her trying to get out of the bunker to do the summoning. When she let go of him, his smile was so genuine, she had to look away, giving Sam a hug also.

She had been at the bunker for about a week, making their food and organizing the bunkers many books. All of them were now in alphabetical order, and she was debating on organizing the artifacts next.

She was doing exactly that, when a man suddenly appeared in the bunkers main room. Judging by the almost floor length tan coat , this man was Castiel, angel of the lord.

Standing up, Ainsley stayed quiet, watching him look around. He was obviously looking for the boys.

"They're at the store. Beer run. Need some help?" She wasn't expecting this, but he jumped slightly. He turned around, and she tried her hardest not to wolf whistle. Sam and Dean were hot, but she was used to them by now, but this man looked... Dare she say angelic?

"My name is Castiel. Who are you, and why didn't I feel your presence?"

His voice was gravelly, and it made her skin prickle. She looked at him, confused.

"My name is Ainsley. I'm staying with Sam and Dean for awhile. As for why you didn't notice my presence... Your guess is as good as mine. And again, need any help, Castiel?" She had heard the boys affectionately call him Cass, but she wasn't quite comfortable with that.

"I have a job for them. They told me they were looking for mild hauntings, and I found one in Washington. Why are they looking for small hauntings? They usually try and get killed..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes went to the side, like he was thinking really, really hard.

She smiled and walked towards him, holding her hand out for him to shake. "They're looking for small ones because I begged them to let me in on at least one of their hunts. Would you mind writing the details down for me? I promise to let them know when they get bac-" She was cut off by the door opening, and the boys walking in, beer cases and bags of chips in hand. She kept telling them that if they got REAL food, she'd cook for them, but they continuously buy that.. CRAP. Dean saw her evil-eyeing his food, and mouthed to her, 'Shove it.' , before walking up to Castiel and clapping him on the back.

"How's it hangin, Cass? Any news?"

"How is what hanging? I don't understand that reference. But we have a small Haunting in Washington State. It seems... To be enough for the small one here." When he said "Small one" he looked at her, and her eyes lit in anger. She looked at Dean, her eyes wide, and her lips moving slowly, and silently. "Three. Two. One."

On the last count, she drew her leg back, and hit the back of Castiels' knees, causing him to fall backwards, and the sound of his head smacking against the hardwood floors was enough to make even Sam and Dean wince in pain.

She looked down at Castiel and smiled, waving and talking to him like she talked to Dean when she flipped him over her shoulder.

"Don't make fun of my height. And don't make fun of my capabilities."

"WHY ARE YOU SO DAMN VIOLENT?" Dean almost yelled, his arms in the air.

"CAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S THE ONLY WAY YOU BLOODY BONEHEADS WILL TAKE ME SERIOUSLY!" Her voice was louder than his by just a smidgen, and her hands too, were in the air. Dean stayed silent after that, not being able to deny it. She watched Castiel stand up, and this time felt no remorse. He was an Angel. He should have seen it coming. Why didn't he see it coming?

"Why didn't you see that coming?" Sam's words echoed her thoughts, and she nodded in agreement, leaning her butt against a table and crossing her arms.

"I...I don't know. I didn't notice her presence when I entered, either. She startled me, actually. I don't understand it." He sounded so confused, like a puppy who's owner pretended to throw the ball, but it was really behind their backs the whole time. They all looked at her, and her eyes widened. "Don't look at me like that! I don't know either!" the confusion in her voice was genuine, and she pouted slightly when they continued to stare at her.

"Huh. Well anyways. I guess we're off to Washington, then?" Sam said this, and her face brightened. She was ecstatic. But for reasons unbeknownst to the boys. Castiel gave them the exact details, and they were on the road within a couple of hours.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxxXxXx

And that's how she is now sitting on the bed of a hotel room, with a little black box in her lap. They had driven for a total of 29 hours, arriving at 5 pm and they had all fallen asleep for two hours afterwards. Their haunting was in Walla Walla, Washington. Dean had laughed at the name, and she had rolled her eyes at his immaturity. When they woke up, Dean and Sam headed towards the bar, leaving her to run some "Errands" of her own. They were wary of leaving her alone, so she lied and said she was grabbing "Lady things." They didn't want to hear anything after that. They finally gave her back her pistol, along with extra ammunition to keep her safe.

The box in her lap contained the ingredients that were surprisingly easy to find. Jawbone of a black cat was found in a Psychic Shoppe, the graveyard dirt was found in the cemetery down the road. She placed her fake I.D. in the box, and conveniently found out that there was yarrow already planted in the backwoods intersection she had previously located on google maps. Now was the moment of truth. Showtime.

She straightened her jacket, and ran her fingers through her free flowing hair, before stepping out of the motel room and hopping onto the bike she "borrowed" from some ten year old. (She actually handed him $40 and told him he'd get it back eventually.)

She was practically shaking with excitement and fear. She didn't know what to expect. But she had every line she would say planned out.

She was ready to finally have a nice life.

She started pedaling, her headphones in, the lilting melody of Kaisier Chief's "Coming Home" playing in her ears, and the GPS on her phone ringing in her ears every so often, telling her where to go.

_**"May I remind you?** _

_**May I remind you that you've got nowhere to go?"** _

Sang Ricky Wilson, English Heartthrob in her ears.

When she reached her destination, she placed the bike in some bushes, sat down in the middle of the dirt road intersection, and started digging.


End file.
